Masks PART THREE: Waking Dream
by Fictatious
Summary: WIP Celena was in the belly of a monster. She knew this monster, but she was still afraid. It was dark and small and pressed in on her from all sides. dilfol
1. In which Celena takes a walk

Celena was in the belly of a monster.

She knew this monster, but she was still afraid. It was dark and small and pressed in on her from all sides. She felt sweat on her face and her stomach churned uncomfortably.

The monster usually protected her, but now it was stifling. It was too hot. She couldn't breath. She felt the walls of the monster's belly closing in on her and she hated the feeling.

It made her afraid.

But she knew how the monster worked. It was difficult to get out, but not impossible. She pushed in the right places and it opened for her. Tired and burnt out, the monster was too weary to keep her in any longer and it released her into the cool, twilight air.

She gasped as she immerged, saltwater flowing out around her legs as the hatch opened. Now with its equilibrium gone, she felt sick with heat. Sweat dripped down her face, joining the saltwater that now soaked the ground below the metal monster's feet. She stumbled down to the recently cropped field below her and sank to her knees.

She panted for a moment before finding the heat was indeed being held to her forehead by a metal band, which she threw aside irritably. It was far too hot. She felt like she'd been running a long long way.

She shook her head and felt dizzy.

She looked up at the stars, starting to peak out from the darkening sky. She smiled and kept looking at them as she opened her boots and slid her unhappy feet out of them. She stood shakily on those tender, pink feet, that seemed to be quite overly sensitive to the ground beneath them, and pulled her horrible gloves and coat off.

She didn't know where they'd come from, but she didn't like them.

She gazed around her again and smiled, knowing just where she was.

The grass had been higher when she'd come this way before, now it was trimmed and she seemed to be ever so much higher above it as she retraced her steps and went back home.


	2. In which Dilandau screems

_Flutter by, butterfly._

A pretty white-winged butterfly. White, perfect wings... Like Folken's. It jumped through the air, its movements erratic and winsome. A few fast flutters of its wings, then slow, steady beats.

And as it shifted to the slower beats, it dropped slightly, lower, closer to the ground, but never quite there before it zipped up again with a flutter. It was zipping up again. The girl snapped out her hand to catch it and giggled.

Her hand opened slowly to exhibit her prize. The butterfly was crumpled looking and not moving. She opened her hand fully and dropped the butterfly back to the wind. It blew away in bits.

Why did it do that?

Because it was dead. Because she'd killed it.

Dead. Dead. Like Chesta. Like Gatti. Like Miguel. Like Dalet. Like Guimel... Like...

Pain ripped through Dilandau and he screamed. It felt like he was being crushed and ripped violently apart at once. He felt nausea rise and his vision blur and blacken. He closed his eyes and lifted his hands to his face, cupping them over his mouth in some attempt to arrest the sickness.

He was burning, drowning, suffocating, being crushed and pulled. He felt something snap. Suddenly air poured back into his lungs and he panted thankfully. The pain faded as abruptly as it had come, leaving only a dull, pulsing ache to course through him. He opened his eyes and brought his hands slowly away from his face, shaking and gasping, his head throbbing and heart hammering.

What the hell was that?

'Celena!' someone was calling. He felt a hand on his shoulder and again heard that name.

They were talking to him.

What?

'Celena?' he asked, slowly staggered to his feet and turning around.

His eyes widened and his head hurt worse at the sight before him. Allen Schezar, Knight of Caeli, looking down at him with shock and anger painted over his face. Fear was slow to come, he could feel it trying to fight its way through, but it hadn't reached him yet. He pushed Allen Schezar away and stumbled himself.

'Where am I?' Dilandau stared at his hands, the ground, the gravestones. Dead.

'Are you a doppelganger?' Allen Schezar was asking.

Of course not. Why would he ask something that stupid? Dilandau hated doppelgangers. Allen Schezar just called him one. Why? He hated Allen Schezar. Why was Allen Schezar here? Why was there grass? What was happening?

Dilandau shook and stared up into the sky. Fear had taken hold of him now and gnawed at him like a starving animal. He was alone. Where was everyone? Dead. Anyone? Jajuka? The junin wasn't dead yet, was he? He couldn't be. There had to be someone.

'JAJUKA!' Dilandau screamed desperately into the air. _Come here. Come get me. Come tell me what's happening. Don't leave me alone._

'JAJUKA!' _Please please please please please please please please please please please please please please pl_-

'JA-JU-KAAA!' desperation added its strength to his voice, making it startle him and ring through the valley.

'Lord Dilandau!' the metallic voice came from nowhere, then the air parted for a blue guymelef to immerge from empty space.

'Jajuka!' Dilandau whispered, relief flowing through him and seeming to make all his bones melt.

'Dilandau?' he heard softly muttered from behind him. He didn't care, he just had to get away from here as fast as possible, he just had to escape back to something familiar.

He ran to the guymelef and climbed up to the shoulder, faster than he usually could. The cloak shut around him and wrapped him in purple. Dilandau clung to the giant so that his hands went first white, then blood crept round them, making his grasp slippery, though he hadn't noticed the metal edges he had a death grip on cutting into his skin.

'You left me alone,' he mumbled shakily as the guymelef took flight.

'I'm sorry, my lord. I lost you,' Jajuka's voice was clangy and odd through the outer speaker.

Dilandau closed his eyes and shook, maybe partially from the cold of being outside a guymelef in flight at dusk.


	3. In which Folken is annoyed

'That's ludicrous,' Folken said in a hard, closed voice, without looking up.

'I didn't _ask_ you're opinion,' Allen Schezar snapped back at him.

'Then what _are_ you asking for?' Folken demanded, aware that there was an edge on his voice but he was having difficulty banishing it with the strong feeling of annoyance in his stomach.

Schezar looked slightly taken aback. The Princesses and merchant-turned-prince were standing quietly behind him and looking surprised at Folken's attitude as well. He turned back to his counter, trying to compose himself. 'The possibility that if your sister was indeed kidnapped she might have been sold to Zaibach as child labor is very probable but does not alter the fact that she was a girl and Dilandau is a man,' Folken was relieved that he managed to make his voice sound normal again. 'I am an alchemist, not a biologist, but I am familiar enough with biological science to know that such a change would be impossible.'

'Maybe she never was a boy,' Schezar reasoned. 'It could have just been hidden.'

Folken bit his bottom lip for a moment. 'No. Dilandau was raised in the orphan system with the other boys. He ate slept and bathed with them. Even getting around that, which he didn't, he had no special treatment until he was nearly fourteen, he was treated by the same doctors as the other boys. Had such a conspiracy been common knowledge among the sorcerers, I would have known about it.'

Schezar was quiet for a moment. 'You know a lot about him.'

Folken bit his lip again. 'An airship has rather close working conditions, as I'm sure you are aware. Both he and I were outcasts within it as well. I knew him.'

'What do you know about his past?'

'Very little,' Folken resisted the urge to glare at Schezar. 'He was an orphan. He was chosen to be a pilot when he was eleven. Beyond that there is very little to tell as...' Folken froze, his eyes widening slightly.

'What?' Schezar urged, stepping forward.

'... He can't remember anything before he was six years old,' Folken said quietly.

One of the princesses drew in a breath. Folken didn't look at any of them. Small snatches of memories, little pieces and allusions were coming rapidly to his mind and connecting to each other as had never occurred to him.

'Paruchi... always referred to himself as having made Dilandau. He worked on the biological interface of the Alseides guymelefs and I assumed that was what he meant. Dilandau did all the primary testing of them...'

He shook his head. 'It's not possible.'

'Why not?' Schezar demanded, anger in his tone.

'The technology doesn't exist!' Folken snapped, rounding on him. He was aware that everyone was staring at him. He turned again to his counter and didn't look at them or speak.

'You said you were an alchemist. This would be out of your department, wouldn't it?' Schezar sounded angry and frustrated.

'They wouldn't have kept such a success secret.'

'It's not really a success if she's turning back, is it?' Schezar retorted challengingly.

Folken found that his hand was shaking and pressed it against the counter. 'I was the Stratagos. I would have known.'

'So what do you know about the biologists?' Schezar asked quietly.

Damn him. '... There were rumors that they were experimenting on humans. Some years ago. When I was first there the rumors were fairly strong. They've mostly died out since then.' Folken shook his head, '... Ten years ago.' He stared down at his hand on the counter. 'They were saying towards the end of it that they had been using children.'

'That was before you were Stratagos,' Schezar said quietly. 'So you wouldn't know, would you.'

'... No... Not necessarily.'


	4. In which Meryl tries to be comforting

Meryl padded quietly down the steps and along the floor. The sound she was hearing made chills run down her spine and settle in her stomach. She slowed down and strolled slowly around the workbench, peeking cautiously around the edge before moving quietly into view.

'Lord Folken?' she called in an unhappy, worried tone.

Lord Folken's muffled sobbing stopped abruptly and he looked up, sniffing and whipping his good hand across his face before looking at her. He was curled up in the corner, looking very pathetic and sad. 'Yes, what is it, Meryl?' he made his voice steady but she could still feel the misery rolling off of him.

'What's wrong?' she asked, gingerly stepping forward.

Lord Folken looked away from her, his face hidden by shadows and hair. '... A lot of things are wrong,' he answered softly.

Meryl dropped to all-fours and crawled to him, rubbing her cheek comfortingly on his shoulder. 'I don't think Lord Van hates you,' she said quietly. 'He really loves you, he's just afraid your going to leave again.'

He choked back a bitter sob, half-successfully. 'Thank you, Meryl,' he whispered, stroking her hair.

'You'll see,' Meryl purred, leaning against him and nuzzling his face. 'Lord Van really does want you to be his brother. He's just scared. It'll be okay.'

'It's hard to believe anything will ever be okay,' Lord Folken shook his head and then leaned it back against the wall.

'It will,' Meryl assured him. 'The war's going to end, and then we'll be a family and we'll take care of each other.'

'... I'm not very good at taking care of people...' Lord Folken's voice was faint and dark.

'It's okay,' Meryl shook her head. 'We'll learn and we'll live and we'll be a family. We just need to love each other and then everything else will be fine.'

Lord Folken pulled her into a tight hug. He was shaking and Meryl was frustrated that she couldn't seem to effect his sadness.

'Love just isn't enough, Meryl,' he whispered into her hair. 'It's not nearly enough.'


	5. In which Dilandau cries

Whenever he closed his eyes he saw fire and blood. Even living in a world of fire and blood for a large portion of his life, it had never invaded his dreams so much. Not since he got past childish night terrors as a boy. Dilandau shook awake again and looked at his bedside clock. He'd only drifted off for a few minutes and he'd already been assaulted by the death screams of his Slayers.

He rolled over in bed, pulling the blankets tighter around and swaddling himself firmly into his cocoon. The feeling of being tied up soothed and frightened him at the same time. His shaking ceased but his stomach began to turn. He turned again and rolled himself onto the floor, thumping down against the brushed steal and shivering as it quickly sucked the heat out of him.

That stemmed the nausea.

'Jajuka...' he called in a soft whisper. Given no response he tried to fight his way free of the blanket he'd trapped himself in and managed only to twist it more securely around his body. 'JAJUKA!' he shouted, panic laced in his voice.

The door opened a moment later and Jajuka, sans coat rushed in, accidentally hitting Dilandau's shins with the door. 'What's the matter, Lord Dilandau?'

'... What time is it?' Dilandau asked lamely as he rolled himself again and managed to find the edge of the blanket and slowly work it loose.

Jajuka glanced at the bedside clock, easily within Dilandau's view and replied quietly, 'It's two-twenty-seven, Lord Dilandau.'

Dilandau nodded. He kicked the blanket into the far corner and sat with his back against the bed, shivering in his light night clothes.

'You should get more rest, Lord Dilandau,' Jajuka said in a neutral, emotionless voice. 'We have to leave for the battlefield in a few hours.'

Dilandau nodded, not looking at him, then dropped his face into his hands with a sob. 'I-if I s-sleep th-they die again and a-again!' he whimpered.

Jajuka sighed and knelt down next to Dilandau, wrapping his arms around the shaking boy and pulling him into a hug like he would have given a homesick child. Like he had almost ten years ago. Once again this child had lost everything familiar to him. Jajuka sighed again, wrapping his arms tighter as Dilandau buried his face in Jajuka's mane and sobbed loudly.


End file.
